She is not fair to outward view. As many maidens be. Her loveliness I never knew. Until she smiled on me. Oh, then I saw her eye was bright. A well of love a spring of light. But now her looks are coy and cold. To mine the ne'er reply. And yet I cease not to be hold. The love light in her eye. Her very frowns are sweeter far. Than smiles of other maidens are.